1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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